New Divide
by hellsdescent
Summary: Lucifer sustains an injury that eventually takes his life. To the surprise of all of his subjects, both Fallen and Demon, he chooses a Demon as his successor to the throne. Before the new Prince can take the crown, the Fallen of the realm declare war upon the future King. As the war known as the New Divide ensues, the Fallen enlist a renegade angel to eliminate the new Prince.
1. The Proposition

Most people are not aware of where the truth lies in this world. Most people fumble blindly, trying to believe in something. Many hope for something better beyond this life. It's an incentive to remain civilized...to remain just. There are people out there who have died for this kind of blind belief.

It's easy to wish for a black and white to the situation. For a good side and a bad side. It's easy to think that if you are corrupt or morally declining, you will be punished. Either in this life or the next. Another incentive to stop one from taking revenge is the hope that punishment will come. That justice will be served.

Unfortunately..

The truth is **not** so simple.

There are places where there is black and white, just and unjust. But there are those who stand forever in between..just like with humanity itself.

Heaven and Hell are at war. That much is true. That's always been true. Their battleground lies within the soul of each human being. Their afterlife is dependent on the actions done in life. Perhaps it's always been a numbers game. And perhaps it's even more daunting to know that Hell is winning that numbers game.

What is less known is that in addition to maintaining the battlefield against Heaven, Hell is on the verge of it's own civil war.

Using the word _civil_ in terms of Hell is actually kind of unusual...but Hell is not so chaotic as some would believe. And this civil war was being born of a single event.

The death of the king.

And that is where our story begins.

* * *

 **Hell - 9th Circle - T.R.E.A.C.H.E.R.Y**

* * *

Coming here would be no easy task for a mortal. Only the most corrupt souls had reservations for Treachery. It was the last circle of Hell and as fate would have it, the only Circle that was outside of the jurisdiction of the ruler of Hell.

Lucky for Castiel, he wasn't a mortal soul. He was a Fallen; an angel that had been exiled from Heaven.

All the other circles of Hell had a consistent pattern, but Treachery was different. It changed...shifted and adapted to the person it was targeting.

The Fallen felt the familiar blast of heat that indicated the realm was trying to sift through his mind to pull memories of pain...of suffering out of him to use.

Yet he was quick to put up his mental block. It was an advanced mental form of magic that provided a very real barrier in his mind. He could feel the invasive stab of the inhabitants' attempts...and was smiling broadly behind a black mask covering his nose and lips when the attempts faltered and died.

The illusion of the circle was gone and he was left with a front view of a castle at his feet. Not so unlike the one you'd see in the first Circle of Hell that Lucifer had built from the ground up. This was meant to be a mockery of it...a signature of the new regime that the Fallen believed was coming.

He walked up the steps until he was deep within the black marble throne room and facing the figure who sat upon the throne. He was a tall Fallen with short brown hair and brown eyes that were dark enough to be considered black. He, like many other Fallen, wore all black. Boots. Jacket. Shirt. Jeans. All of it. On his back, there was the glint of a black and white hilted sword.

They called this being the Shadowalker. His angelic name was Dante. Ironic when his home was in the Ninth Circle. it had nothing to do with the story...or maybe the story found its name basis from him. He had lived a long time. He was a curious Fallen because he was not among the ones who fell with Lucifer in rebellion against the coming age of humanity. He was not cast out for that reason.

In fact, it was never known...the reason for his Fall. Much like Castiel. Perhaps that was part of the reason why Castiel had been summoned all the way here.

"If this could be done quickly...," Castiel just tried to go with breaking the weird silence first. "...I can only tolerate Treachery for short bursts."

Dante's answering smile was cold. "...Don't worry. I don't think Treachery is very pleased with your presence here either."

The Shadowalker stood up and moved to approach Castiel then, his footsteps causing an echoing sound. Even though this throne room appeared empty aside from the two of them, Castiel knew better than to buy into that. There were other Fallen lurking in the shadows. Either that or there were demonic servants. Which would have been ironic.

"I take it you can guess why I've called you of all Fallen here, Castiel," said Dante.

"I've given that some thought. The war isn't going well for you, is it, Shadowalker? It must be _shameful_ to show your face outside of these walls. Your troops must not even get a morale boost from it. How disappointed they must be that their leader is losing to a child."

Castiel's words had certainly caused a shift in the atmosphere, the tension mounting. He saw movement in the shadows and he caught it fast.

Dante, however...was not one to appear offended. Or he was very good at hiding said offense. He just smirked, as though the Fallen's arrogant statement amused him. "I'm not losing."

Castiel smiled. "I'd say having control over one circle out of nine is losing."

"That won't be the case for long," said Dante shortly. "You're going to help me."

"And what makes you think I'll do that? I have no interest in your war. The Crowned Prince is about to become King. Soon, your little rebellion will have little choice in who they accept for their ruler. I say you lay down your weapons and accept defeat. If your **pride**...should allow it."

"Unfortunately...my pride does not. You're mistaken, Castiel. This war is not over. That's why you are here. You may not have an interest in the war right _now._ That's fine. Things change, however. The aftermath...the victor...that's where it effects everyone. Bet your life on it that if I were to win this war, you would be among the first I'd hunt down and kill myself. It's a great act of treachery, you know to defy your future king."

"That is assuming of course...that you will win. And that is a big assumption, as I said. You are losing," Castiel's eyes gleamed. But he continued to smile. "...I'll humor you. **NOT** because of your...little threat. Which was _rude_ , by the way. But because I have nothing better to do at this current time...and...this presents a challenge for me, getting involved in a war. What would you need me to do?"

Dante nodded, a slight twitch to his lips in approval. "First..."

He raised his hand into a fist. "I would need to conduct a small test. I'd be remiss if I didn't do just a little one."

Castiel heard it before he saw it. The sound was so subtle. Normal ears could never catch it...and it would be a challenge even for a Fallen or a demon. The slice through the air of something small and light before the whistle as it came closer.

He never broke his gaze from the Shadowalker, just stopping the arrow just shy of two inches from his intended heart where it became idle, just hovering as though it was waiting for a command. Then as Castiel's power stretched out over the small object, it tensed and flew a few circles around the two Fallen. The flight became faster and faster until it was finally released behind him, clattering to the ground where it was blackened and smoking. Castiel blinked and the arrow exploded into red sparks, leaving only tiny smoking pieces behind.

Dante ran his tongue over his teeth, pleased. "...I can see why they call you Lightning now. Very good, Castiel. The task I have for you is very simple and straightforward. As you might be aware, the Prince has cast a ward spell on all Dimension Doors leading to Earth. It's a strong spell...but we are working on bringing it down. We only have the means at this time to allow one to pass through unscathed."

"And you want me to go through it."

Dante nodded. " We have a source within the Prince's castle. He's indicated that the Prince has escaped Hell and he's gone to the mortal world. For what...we don't know. I don't necessarily care, either. "

"You want me to find him?" Castiel asked.

"On the contrary...a victory for the Fallen is a victory no matter who holds the sword. I want you to **kill** him," said Dante.

"Not so prideful like Lucifer was, are you? How humble of you," Castiel remarked.

Dante ignored his snide statement, closing the distance between them even more. "...I must warn you, Castiel. If you betray me...you are betraying more than a simple sect of Fallen. You are betraying your kind. I do not take kindly to deserters in any form. If you betray us...Make no mistake. I will **destroy** you."

Castiel acknowledged the venom in his tone. "...That's the second time in one conversation you've threatened my life. I'm getting to think you and I are going to be good friends in the future."

But Dante was in no mood for any type of sarcasm, just kept disturbingly still as Fallen liked to do, waiting for Castiel's affirmation.

Castiel leaned in this time. "You have my word. _He_ won't be a problem for you anymore."


	2. Alliances

Another late night. Sam was pretty much past insomnia at this point. He continued to survey his computer screen and type feverishly when needed. It was best to try to ignore that there was a hand mirror that a certain _someone_ had planted there to make him feel self-conscious or guilty. He didn't need to see what he knew he was there.

The agent didn't need to see his dark hair in clumps and disarray. He didn't need to see that his eyes had lost their light hazel brightness and that they were bloodshot, punctuated with purple bruises underneath.

He was running on almost no sleep, but willingly giving in when his brain shut down for those microseconds of rest. Sam took a sip from the cup of fresh coffee next to his hand and refocused on the monitor, eyes growing wider as he tried to absorb all the information he could. It was hardly noticed when someone started to approach.

It was a woman in her mid-twenties wearing a black and white pantsuit. She glanced at the hand mirror that was being ignored and reached down to snap it from the small slip of tape that was keeping it against Sam's monitor. Just looking at herself and then him and she could see the difference between what a normal human looked like and what...basically a zombie looked like. Her eyes were blue, her hair sunshine gold, set in curls to frame her face.

She set the mirror down and crossed her arms, making her way around Sam's desk to eye what he was doing on the screen.

"You know you wouldn't be doing this...staying late after work to complete those reports if you just completed them during the day like you were supposed to," She scolded him.

"Jess," Sam greeted stiffly, freeing his hand from the mouse to briefly wipe at his forehead before going back to what he was doing.

"You're just lucky the Captain hasn't caught you looking at non-work related sites. And you're lucky I'm so _soft_ on you," Jess smiled at him, which he didn't catch. Of course not.

Sam frowned and used his thumb to scratch a line on his forehead. His lack of sleep caused the delayed thinking and he was a moment answering her. "I am lucky to have you. I never said I wasn't."

Jess watched him type away on a document, glancing from it to him. Then she tentatively moved forward as if trying to calm an animal. "...Sam...You know I care about you. And I know how important...what you're doing is to you. But this can't keep happening. I'm serious. You're like the walking dead in here. You need to go home. Get some sleep. You're going to kill yourself working like this."

"I'm fine," Sam assured her. When she made a clicking sound with her tongue, Sam reached forward to take a hold of her knee. "Really. I am...I don't regret staying a few hours late for this. I don't regret it either. I'm getting...close now. Closer to the target than I ever have been. I think for sure it's _him_ this time."

Jess placed her hand over his bracingly. "Baby. Even if it is...It's not worth killing you. I know how much this means to you. But how can you know it's the one this time? When you said this before...it was completely off."

"I'm right _this_ time," said Sam.

"Okay, but -"

"Excuse me."

They both looked up to see Sam's assistant, Charlie poke her head into the office.

"Sorry to interrupt, Agent Winchester. There's someone here to see you. Says it's very important that he speak with you directly regarding one of your cases. I don't know how he checked out with security at _this_ time but…"

Sam went back to his screen, glancing at Jess before he did. His tone was dismissive. "It's midnight, Charlie. Just tell him to come back in the morning...or tell him I'm not in, better yet."

"That's the thing…," Charlie bit her lip. "I...uh...may have told him you're in the office. Sorry about that."

Sam sighed. "Now I'm wondering how he got through security too. All right...Send them up."

Charlie nodded and disappeared. Jess waited until she heard her footsteps growing more distant before she spoke again.

"Captain Singer isn't going to like this."

"Bobb-Captain Singer...isn't going to know. Besides...even if he did. He'd understand why." This was the umpteenth time Jess had brought the Captain Singer - or as Sam liked to call him, Uncle Bobby - card. It was a good tactic, but still.

"Let me take this client or...whomever. I'll send for you when I'm done,"

Jess just eyed him skeptically like she knew what he was _really_ going to do before getting off the slight lean she had on his desk to leave the office.

Sam meanwhile stood up and straightened himself out the best he could. He was too curious on who had the gall to show up for him this late at night. Maybe it was his lack of sleep that made him less tense about it than he perhaps should have been.

The man that entered was another stark contrast to himself...yet it was more than that. He was wearing a black suit and black tie. His hair was cut short and black in slight disarray like Sam...Yet there was something more natural to it, more intentional. His face was probably that of a supermodel with the light pallor of his skin and the dark blue eyes. Even the curvature of his lips was attractively placed.

Yeah, Sam was definitely needing sleep if he was just gonna stare at a stranger's lips for longer than necessary. He shook off his little trance and took in the man's suit. A black suit and tie, like the man had just come from a funeral. Sam came forward, around his desk to extend a hand to the man.

"Sam Winchester. CIA. Charlie told me you were here regarding a case."

" _Something_ like that,"

Sam tried to ignore that his grip felt ice cold and was quick to release his hand. "And you are?"

The stranger was looking around at various parts of Sam's office, his bookshelf, his computer, the window behind his desk that provided a great view of the city. When he finally looked back at the man in front of him, he smiled slightly, showing sharper canines. "Ca-...James Novak. You can just call me Mister Novak."

"Well, Mister Novak...," Sam began, moving around to his side of the desk again and sitting down. "What case are you looking to discuss?"

"Not one of the cases the CIA has an official interest in," said Novak. "It's more about a case that's you've been taking pro bono."

Sam visibly stiffened, his heart suddenly racing. "...I don't make it my business to discuss unofficial cases. I didn't get the name of your firm?"

"I'm not from a legal firm," Novak answered. "I'm looking for someone. And I think you're looking for the same someone. My connections with the FBI say you've been questioning the same people they have."

"...You're surprisingly well informed, Mister Novak. But again, I'm not at liberty to discuss what I do with my own personal time."

"Good. Don't discuss those. Discuss the folder you have in the first drawer to your left next to the King James Bible. You know I didn't take you for a man of faith...but...all the more power to you." Novak trailed off.

Sam's eyes widened. "You broke into my office?"

"You and I both know, given your security system when you're not in it...that that is impossible. But go on and take that file out, why don't you?"

Sam hesitated a beat before sliding back in his seat and opening said drawer. He pulled out the manila folder and placed it on the desk between them. Novak slid it towards himself and opened it up, sprawling the three main newspaper articles at the top over Sam's desk.

One article from the LA times was front page news, headlined in big font...the other two weren't even from the US. One was from Mumbai, India...the last one from Beijing. Each giving the same type of news. Someone found dead in a miraculous...unfathomable way. Each person died supposedly of a heart attack. Mumbai victim was a woman of about thirty who was found with her heart ripped out. Victim two in Beijing was a business man who had the same thing happen...and the LA victim was another male. The murders were related in four different ways.

Each victim had their heart torn out...each victim had no forensic evidence left on sight to indicate who the attacker was other than the physical struggle in their own homes. There were no fingerprints...no DNA.

But the single most obvious point was how the victim looked when they were found. Eyes wide and bloodshot...skin wrinkled and shriveling so badly that it looked like their bodies had been decaying for a great length of time. Which didn't make sense. And it _wouldn't_...to a human.

 _Castiel_ , however...recognized these as what they truly were. The heart ripping may have been for show...but the aftermath and look of the bodies held the truth. These victims had their souls torn away from them.

The last point was that all of these murders happened in the span of the last two weeks. Locals would not make the connection from one murder to the next, but an international affiliate might.

And that was what Sam was. He had to give the man credit for piecing this together. Yet that didn't provide the motive on why he was looking in the first place...why he had compiled this behind his superior's back...and it certainly didn't give reason as to whether the man believed in something more. Tracking a being like this...and trying to make a connection out of it was unusual. Why did the CIA care?

"My superior officers believe this is a hoax. Or an unfortunate coincidence. They're not bothering with their own investigation."

"Death is not a hoax," said Castiel shortly. He slipped the articles back in place and slid the folder back towards Sam. "And I think you don't believe in that either do you, Agent Winchester?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. Castiel could tell he was being measured up. "...What exactly is it to you? What I believe?"

"I have an interest in this case as well. Let's say I'm someone that was hired to take him out."

"What, like a mercenary?"

Castiel paused. "...Something like that. What about you? What's your interest?"

Something inside Sam shook at the simple question which made Castiel's head tilt. His senses caught his heart beating too rapidly.

"I've seen it happen before."

Just five words...and yet it left Castiel reeling. _Where?_ Where had he seen this before? Did he mean he had seen it firsthand? No, this was something done personally to him. It explained why he was conducting his investigation in secret.

As their eyes met, Castiel may have tried to read his mind. It wasn't the polite thing to do. But the other would hardly feel it if he was successful. Morals went out the window when you were a Fallen. This was information he needed to have.

Though he was disappointed to find that Sam's mind was too strong to invade directly. This memory...whatever it was, had caused him great pain. He didn't make it a point to remember, despite the fact that it was a driving force in shaping his personality...his desires...his goals.

It didn't typically happen with humans. Humans were usually easy to read. That put up a red flag in Castiel's mind regarding this man. These murders were obviously of a supernatural origin. Surely Sam knew that too.

"Agent Winchester…," Castiel began. He had fully planned on killing Sam after retrieving this folder. He still could technically. But maybe he hadn't exhausted his uses yet.

Again, Castiel had the option of simply using his power on the man, tearing the memory from his mind. It would leave permanent mental damage…but in addition to that, he could force compliance and make Sam do anything he wanted him to do. This was a critical moment, however…and Sam complying with him with one hundred percent free will was imperative.

"I'm sure you know by now that the man you're looking for is not normal," said Castiel. "Whatever you have encountered in the past…whatever scrape you may have gotten into? You were lucky to survive it. Going down this path, it's dangerous. I'm not going to lie to you. You have to be fully prepared to face the worst."

It was vague, he knew. But there was no better way to say it, not without giving too much.

Sam locked eyes with him, his expression grim. Slowly, he nodded.

"I can take care of myself."

Castiel wanted to argue that, but he decided not to up the suspicion on himself anymore. "…Then I'm going to help you. Do you have any leads?"

"I do," Sam nodded. He reached towards his drawer again and took out another newspaper article, this one in Spanish. He pushed it towards Castiel. "…I don't know what this is…if it's a cult or a weird…mutant thing. I don't even know. But there's another relation between the murders. Another link. Rolling blackouts. Looks like the culprit likes to mess with the electrical lines wherever he goes. I don't know. It looks like it's happening again. In Panama, this time."

Castiel stared at the article, reading through it. It was a small little segment. But it was a lead like Sam had said. He just hoped they could get there in time.

"It's not much…," Sam trailed off.

"It's enough. We should leave tonight. Take the first…flight out."

Yeah, that was when Castiel realized the disadvantage of inviting a human along that had no idea of his true nature. He had to adapt to his slow method of travel.

One could hope they'd make it there on time.

* * *

Gordon Walker had a simple life. So it would seem. Just like any other civilian in Panama. He may have stood out a little. His Spanish was a little off and it was clear his American accent was a complete hindrance. The people accepted him, however, allowing him boarding and a job at a local inn. This place was perfect for what he was using it for.

He had been here in the past...trained at the US Army base that was set up nearby for special training. But he had purposely found a city far from that base...so far that it would be damn near impossible for any soldier to stumble upon him by mistake.

The ex-Sergeant had done this on purpose. He liked his solitude. It kept him away from any reminders...any recollection from the sins of his past.

There were several items in his small apartment that kept him grounded. He just named them off in a small mantra to himself whenever he felt something akin to panic threaten to overtake his mind. Simple household items. Like his bed, his dresser, his couch, his door, the doorknob. The small desk in the corner. It all kept him in a safe place whenever he thought he was in danger.

Not that he thought he ever had reason to believe he was in danger, of course.

He stepped out of the small apartment, heading to the lanky, gated elevator that trembled under his weight. He passed Maria, the lobby girl almost snoozing while she pretended to work at her computer. He took off his jacket and set it down in the chair next to hers.

"Sleeping on the job, Maria?"

Maria jolted awake, some of her hair sticking to the side of her cheek. She scowled at him…Must have been a good dream he was interrupting.

"I was just closing my eyes for a few minutes,"

"Seemed like many minutes," said Gordon, smiling down at her. There was nothing chiding in his tone. He wasn't her boss, she was his after all. Just the look exchanged between the two of them said that he wasn't going to tell the manager.

"Whatever. I'm glad to trade the desk for a bed," said Maria, standing up and stretching. She took her jacket off the seat and moved the chair around so he would have access to the computer.

"Don't try to be on it too long…and keep hitting save. You never know when…," She made a face. No doubt the computer had shut off a few times for the continuous blackouts.

"I know. I'm surprised the blackouts haven't stopped. Has there been any word from the city on it?"

"Not that I know of...it's been pretty slow. I hardly had anyone come in during my shift except tenants. That reminds me...someone was in looking for you. A man in black."

Gordon paused. "...Was there? Did he...ahem. Did he say what he wanted?"

She shook her head. "Just wanted to know when your shift started and mine ended. Is there a problem?"

" Don't worry about it. Go sleep," said Gordon, taking her place at the computer.

"It's been slow…anyway...yep…good night!"

Gordon watched her leave with a hint of a smile before he returned to his computer. She was right. It was slow. No one new was coming in. There was only existing tenants. Business boomed a little last week when the blackouts started and people came to the inn with the hopes that the place was unaffected by it all. Not like they were right.

But it was good to hope.

After the first two hours, Gordon found he couldn't blame Maria for starting to fall asleep at the desk, because he was doing the same. His eyelids felt heavy and he yawned.

It was this laziness that made him fail to hear the door open, a small bell ringing. A black shape entered his peripheral and Gordon was forced to look.

The stranger looked in his mid-twenties. He wore an all-black ensemble consisting of a tank top, leather jacket, jeans and boots that created heavy footfalls. His eyes were large and green, piercing almost like a cat's. His hair was light brown, sticking up above his hairline. It was a decent look for him if a little sinister. The smile he wore as his tongue slicked over the top row of teeth had Gordon feel some unease.

There was also a prominent slashed scar on his right cheek that looked as though it had come from a blade, curving slightly under his eye.

He leaned on the counter top towards Gordon.

"Checking in."


	3. Sympathy for the Devil

This must have been the man that Maria had said was looking for him. He watched the stranger in some fascination for a moment, watching as he took out a cigarette and lit the end. A reflexive response sprang to his lips to reprimand and tell the stranger that there was no smoking allowed. He bit it back, watched as smoke rose from the man's lips as he took the first drag. He must have been seeing things…because he could have sworn the smoke wasn't the normal grey or white…but black.

"I heard you were looking to talk to me," said Gordon slowly.

The stranger took another long inhale of the cigarette, keeping his gaze trained on Gordon for a long time until he looked downward, blowing out the smoke slowly. To add insult to injury, he ashed out the cigarette on Gordon's countertop.

"You heard wrong."

All Gordon heard was the slick sound of metal sliding against wood, and then he saw the gleam through one eye and he instinctively moved backwards, his chair sliding against the tile.

A centimeter. The blade the stranger had pulled out from seemingly nowhere was literally a centimeter away from his throat. Time seemed to slow and in those precious few seconds, Gordon's gaze lifted to meet the stranger's eyes. He could see that steady forming smile spread before Gordon pushed back off the chair, knocking himself backwards into the ground.

The move was purposeful as he reached behind the trashcan under counter and retrieved a handgun that he whipped out just as the other man jumped onto his side, the sword he had used lazily held over his shoulder.

"I'm here to **kill** you."

The simple explanation was enough for Gordon who fired the pistol directly at the other man's head. The stranger's head lifted as though he was expecting no less from him. Air blasted around him but the bullet never connected to its intended target. It froze just short of a few inches from the stranger's body.

He lifted it as it was suspended in mid-air and tilted his head at the tiny metal bullet laid on his palm.

"…I'm in the business of collecting souls, Gordon. Not just any soul will suffice. A dark soul is what I require…and yours is especially dark. Killing those poor children…you should be ashamed of yourself."

"I did what I had to do," Gordon all but growled.

"Yes, that's a common excuse from the lips of a hellbound **wretch** ,"

Gordon would spare no words, still too shell-shocked by seeing his bullet stop in midair. He rolled over onto his back and pulled himself to his feet so he could start running. He expected to be stopped, he expected a hand to close around his ankle and stop him. But nothing came.

Once Gordon was out on the street, he took off in one direction, mixing into a crowd of people celebrating some holiday. Nearly everyone was masked with horror based masks. It was an easy blend for the other man.

The stranger's stride was slow as he entered the crowd, picking a bandana off a nearby table, and leaving a few coins down to pay for it. The bottom half of the black cloth had the printed design of a creatures mouth, lips wide and smiling, teeth razor sharp and blood stained.

Fitting, in its own way. He slipped the mask around his face and tied off the back, blending in more so than his victim. Before he could move to continue his pursuit, there was lightning flashing across the sky and a roll of thunder that caught his attention briefly.

Sam was still uneasy about having the stranger with him on this mission. As they took the taxi out of the airport, he was exchanging a few glances. The plane had them separated and he spotted that look of unease on his face before they were seated. Now all his suspicions were coming full circle. As he drove towards the deeper part of the city, he turned to the man who had introduced himself as Novak.

"You never told me who your employer was," said Sam.

"No. I didn't," Castiel agreed, throwing him a pointed look that pretty much said he wasn't going to tell him either. Not that Sam would believe it.

"You said that I have to be prepared to face the worst…that I was lucky to survive it before. What did you mean by that? If you have any information that I don't have…,"

"To be honest with you, Agent…I only sought you out because you were further in any investigation regarding this entity than anyone else. That includes local law enforcement or any sort of international agency. And your organization isn't moving forward with a real arrest. Because they wouldn't believe you. Either that or they won't care to see the connections that you've seen."

Castiel paused for a moment to let that settle, watching the Agent's thoughtful expression. "Your intuition is good, Agent. Another reason I sought you out…is because I needed to know where _he_ was moving next. As to your question...I know what we're looking for. He's a demon. Not just any demon but what's known as a Soul Seeker. The highest on the demonic hierarchy. They consume souls. Not just any soul…those tainted by darkness of sins' past. The more souls they consume, the stronger they become."

"A…demon," Sam repeated, glancing over at Castiel like he was seriously questioning his sanity.

Castiel expected that reaction, so his returning gaze held no earnest, no plea for Sam to believe him. "Whatever vendetta you have against this entity, Agent…it's not worth your life. Your soul would mean nothing to him, he'd just kill you. You can't be here. You have to leave."

"You're asking me to leave?" Sam asked incredulously. "After coming all this way? I don't think so."

"No," Was all Castiel responded with. He reached across the seat and lightly brushed two fingers over Sam's temple. The Agent let out a sharp gasp before his eyelids grew heavy and he started to snooze, right there in the seat.

Castiel watched him for a moment. "I wasn't _asking_."

He leaned forward in the seat to address the driver. " You can stop here. Take my friend to the motel. He should be awake by then. I'll pay for the rest of the fare."

The man nodded as Castiel slipped him a few bills and the yellow cab pulled to parallel park between two cars on the street.

As Castiel exited the vehicle, his power was already starting to extend towards the skies, lightning flashing and the rumble of thunder to signal his arrival.

The demon didn't allow himself to be distracted for long. He began to push through the crowd, his senses on high alert. Gordon wouldn't get far in his escape.

But the motel attendant was under the belief that he had lost the demon, breaking through the celebrations in the streets into a seemingly empty dark alleyway. He didn't stop there, continuing to run down one and find another, then doing the same over and over until he was far from the motel.

His mind reeled over what he had just seen. Did that bullet really stop? There was no way. His grip tightened on his pistol and he actively tried to avoid looking in the chamber to see that the bullet was missing and that it had in fact stopped in front of what should have been human. No, he was hallucinating. It had to be.

He began to turn another corner and ran into an overly warm body. The stranger, smaller in frame than him knocked him back a few steps. He took in the dark form, now wearing a mask to cover the lower side of his face.

"You…What are you…? You're not…you're not human."

"I know, right… I'd kill myself if I was," The stranger replied coolly. He pulled at the sheath on his back again and pulled his sword loose once more. The tip of the blade was pointed directly at Gordon's chest and he was frozen with fear.

But not for long. He raised the gun with both hands and fired off a few more rounds in the other man's direction. At this proximity, it should have made him stagger, made him fall…done _something_ to hurt him. Once again, the bullets never pierced flesh or clothing. Just lingered in the air. This time he didn't pick them or knock away.

No, they unraveled in spirals of dust, swirling above their heads into nothingness.

"What the…"

A beam of light exited the man's blade and pierced Gordon's chest. The searing pain was instantaneous and he groaned, crying out. Just as fast as the pain came, it was gone. The demon had never been tearing out hearts, he was destroying them, leaving nothing but a hole in the chest cavity for the rest to find.

From the gaping hole, a white light surrounding by dark swirls shot out like a magnet towards the demons extended hand. He held it for a moment, simply examining the soul as though confirming what he already knew. Then the light began to disappear, absolving into his hand, into his body. The demon felt a thrum of power beneath his skin, fiery heat that touched every part of him.

"…Satisfied?"

Castiel's voice did not make the demon turn. He just dropped his hand and cracked his neck on both sides.

"It was you I sensed…impeding on what you shouldn't have."

The demon turned and took in the full appearance of Castiel. The suit that he was wearing to blend in...the black hair that looked severely unkempt. The demon might have thought he looked handsome, if he wasn't so biased againt his kind to begin with. He could see it in the span of his wings, visible to him even in the darkness. Only true belief in Heaven and Hell allotted someone the ability to see the wings of an angel. Demons, by default beleived in angels, so there was nothing poetic about the sight. It just made the demon scowl.

"A Fallen…I should have known."

Castiel moved a little closer, doing the same thing the demon was, measuring him up.

"You're the one that's to be king. You don't look very powerful to me, skulking away in the mortal world to shirk your duty. That's...unimpressive."

"Well, lucky for me...," The demon moved closer as well. He was slightly taller than the Fallen. "...I don't do anything to impress Fallen."

Castiel just scowled at him. "...Let me make this very simple for you, demon. I'm only going to say this once. So take it as your only warning. I'm offering you the chance to surrender, here and now. I take you where I'm meant to take you, there's no way you'll survive. If you surrender your claim to the throne, perhaps that'll give you a better chance of survival."

"Ooh...that sounds an awful lot like a threat. Are you threatening me?"

"No," Castiel watched as he took another step towards him. "I'm warning you."

The demon smiled, his eyes crinkling above the mask. "Go back home to whomever sent you here, Fallen. You're in over your head."

"I'm **warning** you...," said Castiel again, the demon now backing him against the brick wall. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"Oh...I think I do...I think I want to see exactly what _you_ can do,"


End file.
